


To Bear the Silence of the Night

by coolbreezemage



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreezemage/pseuds/coolbreezemage
Summary: Linhardt gave a gentle snort and shook the fishing line again. “Sleeping at night? Who would want to? This is the best part of the day. No one to bother you or make you do chores or go into battle. Just the stars and the fish.”Dimitri had never considered it before. Nights in Faerghus were cold, inhospitable, lonely. And in recent years, inhabited by endless nightmares of flames and death.But he couldn’t deny the thought was tempting. A peaceful life, with no need for battle, with time enough to enjoy the beauty of the world... that was more than he had hoped for in years.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	To Bear the Silence of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 2376 in Ship Dimitri With Everyone, because this boy deserves all the love

When Dimitri woke for the third time in as many hours, heart racing fit to burst, with the memory of blood and ash lingering heavy on his tongue, he knew it would be useless to attempt sleep yet again. He dragged himself out his sweaty sheets and threw his uniform jacket on over his nightclothes, fighting all the while to steady his breath, slow the fury churning in his gut at the memories of all the horrors he’d been helpless to stop. 

Someday, someday soon, Goddess willing, he would have his chance to right those wrongs. To slaughter the perpetrators of all that fire and death, to set free all those friends who yet begged him to avenge them… No. Now was not the time. He pleaded silently for more time, and to his relief and shame, the furious voices receded.

He stepped out into the empty courtyard, letting the cool night air go some short way to calming him, keeping him in the present. He strode out across the grass with no destination in mind. Perhaps he should go to the training grounds, take out his fury on a cloth-and straw dummy that couldn’t feel pain. Somehow the idea didn’t appeal. 

His thoughtless feet brought him instead past the greenhouse to the fishing pond. There was something on the dock. A person? Dimitri caught a flash of green hair in the moonlight reflected off the water. Seteth? He drew back, slowing his steps. Seteth cared nothing for rank or titles; being crown prince and House Leader would no doubt earn him a harsher scolding for being out after curfew, not a lesser one. As it well should be, Dimitri thought, but that still didn’t mean he wished to incur Seteth’s displeasure. 

And then the figure shifted again, revealing itself to be not Seteth but Linhardt, long limbs laid out on a narrow blanket, a notebook and pen by his ear. A fishing lure dangled lazily in the water before him, sending out silent ripples but as of yet attracting no fish to bite.

He glanced over as Dimitri approached. “I hope you’re not expecting me to get up.”

Dimitri shook his head. “There’s no need. I am sorry if I’ve disturbed you.”

Linhardt yawned, utterly untroubled. “You haven’t. You can stay, if you wish, as long as you don’t talk too much.” Straightforward. Dimitri appreciated that. Linhardt waved a hand towards the empty planks next to him. “Your Highness,” he added, a touch of irony to the title that Dimitri couldn’t quite make sense of.

“And there’s no need for formality,” Dimitri said.

“Oh, good. I think I’d get very tired of saying Your Highness all the time otherwise.”

Despite himself, Dimitri smiled at that. “It is rather tiring.” 

“Hmm. Not tiring enough to keep you in bed, I see.”

“I suppose so. Not for lack of trying, at least.” Dimitri admitted. 

Something pulled at Linhardt’s fishing line. The fish fought as he reeled it in, splashing with a ferocity much greater than its small size would suggest. Linhardt unhooked it with long, delicate fingers, studying its glittering scales as if they might hold the answer to an ancient riddle. Dimitri glanced around for a nonexistent bucket or basket to store the catch, but it wasn’t needed; Linhardt tossed the fish back. It darted away in a flurry of spreading ripples, likely as grateful and frightened as any soldier escaping a skirmish with a force far greater than he.

“Was there something wrong with it?” Dimitri asked.

“I’m looking for the leaf-finned breed for my experiments. That one was a thorn-fin, so I have no use for it. And as it’s too small to be worth eating, I’d rather not kill it,” Linhardt explained, attention still on the rod and line. “But that breed tends to grow large if left to swim free. Perhaps in a few seasons it’ll be big enough. Flayn can deal with it then.” He attached a new bit of bait to the hook, straightened the waterlogged feather on the lure, and cast the line. Silence, then, for a long, calm, stretch. 

Somehow it was nice to be ignored, Dimitri thought. Not a cold sort of ignoring, as the lords and stewards both had done in Fhirdiad, but a warm sort not crowded with expectations, where talking wasn’t needed, where he wasn’t the most important person in the room but instead only another piece in a scene, same as the pond or the sky or the blanket. He took a slow breath, let his eyes drift to the stars above. 

“The sorts of fish you can catch at night are a lot paler than those found in the daytime,” Linhardt said, apparently not caring whether or not Dimitri was interested or even listening. But Dimitri was, for it would be unforgivably rude to do anything else. “Sometimes you can see them swimming just below the surface if the light is at the right angle.” He adjusted his line and lay back again. “I suppose it’s because they don’t have to worry about being scooped up by herons. Or most fishermen.”

Most fishermen. Not him. “What are you doing out here at this hour?” Dimitri risked. “I don’t mean to pry,” he added hastily, “it just seems… unusual. Can you not sleep?” From all he knew, Linhardt spent most of his time sleeping, especially when others wanted him to work.

Linhardt gave a gentle snort and shook the line again. “Sleeping at night? Who would want to? This is the best part of the day. No one to bother you or make you do chores or go into battle. Just the stars and the fish.” 

Dimitri had never considered it before. Nights in Faerghus were cold, inhospitable, lonely. And in recent years, inhabited by endless nightmares of flames and death.

But he couldn’t deny the thought was tempting. More than tempting. A peaceful life, with no need for battle, with time enough to enjoy the beauty of the world, that was more than he had hoped for in years. Something lost to him. But if he worked hard enough, carried out his duty without fail, perhaps his friends and his people might someday enjoy it. 

“And I told you, I need some leaf-fins. I’m working on an experiment to study the ability of a compound of their bones to enhance the efficacy of healing spells.”

That’s right, Linhardt’s focus was in healing magic. Dimitri had seen him assisting in the infirmary a few times before while escorting injured classmates (usually Annette) to Manuela for aid after a mishap on the training grounds or in the kitchen.

Linhardt continued his fishing. He reeled in three small, wriggling fish that must have been leaf-fins he was looking for, because everything else was thrown back. He’d even shake his line free if it was clear that the creature on the other end was too big to be of the breed he sought. 

From time to time, damning whispers threatened at the back of Dimitri’s head, but despite the quiet that they would usually see as a welcome invitation, they stayed back, curses indecipherable. He wondered how long the peace would last. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay awake the whole night and hope to perform well in training tomorrow. And to perform poorly in the one thing he was supremely skilled at would disappoint not only the Professor but his entire House and everyone who relied on him.

“I won’t trouble you much longer,” Dimitri said, pulling himself to his feet and stretching. 

Linhardt studied the bait at the end of his line. “Hmm. Recently I stumbled upon a spell for inducing sleep.”

Not for the first time that night, Dimitri wondered if Linhardt saw more than he let on. Or maybe Dimitri was just that transparent. 

Finally Linhardt turned, caught Dimitri’s eye, and there was nothing judgemental or suspicious in his face, just a tired curiosity and an offer of kindness. “If you would oblige me, I would very much like to attempt it.”

The mere idea sounded like a greater blessing than it had any right to be. He nodded. “Of course. What should I do?”

“Just stand still and don’t blink.” Linhardt lifted his hands. A moment later, cool light washed over Dimitri’s skin, filling his vision with brightness. He blinked it away, waiting to feel the effects. So far there was nothing he could detect, no changes to his body or thoughts, not like the immediate sparks of a healing spell or the breath-stealing impact of an offensive spell.

He was about to ask Linhardt what he should expect when he noticed a slight cloudiness at the back of his mind, a calm heaviness growing steadily stronger.

“There.” Linhardt smiled. “That should do it.” He yawned, then sat back down and picked up the fishing rod again. “You should get back to your room before it takes full effect.”

Was the spell strong enough that Linhardt had reason to be concerned Dimitri might pass out on the grounds or in the hallways? Might there be a use then for this spell in combat, to take down an opponent without harming them… Dimitri found himself yawning, his thoughts growing distant and hard to grasp.

He heeded Linhardt’s advice, and just managed to get back into bed before the fog overtook him entirely. 

***

Dimitri woke slowly and easily, which should have been a bad sign in itself, but the sheer pleasure of such an unfamiliar peace was enough for him to forget his responsibilities for several long, shameful moments. 

And then the noon light streaming through the window quickly soured any relief. His chest knotted. Morning classes would be almost over by now. 

He dressed as quickly as he could and gathered up his books and assignments, already composing endless apologies in his head. He straightened his cape, checked the books for a third time, then stepped out into the hallway and almost walked right into Dedue.

“Your Highness. I am relieved to see you well.” Just the sound of his voice was more comforting than Dimitri wanted to admit.

“Dedue, I… I’m sorry. I overslept. Is class over?”

Dedue nodded, a slow motion that Dimtri might not have recognized had he not spent years at his side. “The Professor ended class early today. When you did not arrive, I was concerned you were ill, but I did not want to wake you if you were resting.” 

And he’d made Dedue worry for him. He bit his lip. “I will talk to the Professor.”

“That would be wise. Though I do not believe she is upset with you, only concerned as to why you were absent.” 

“I see.” Dimitri looked away. It didn’t matter. Sleeping through lessons as he had done was tantamount to throwing away all the hard work she did for him and his classmates. Any delays now in making amends would only compound the disgrace he’d brought upon himself.

He headed around the courtyard and presented himself at the classroom door. Thankfully, Byleth was still there, busy sketching out a strategy diagram on the board. He recognized it as one Gustave had shown him once: a famous battle from long ago, two great forces fighting for a narrow strip of fertile land, the conflict won when one general held back his best fighters to charge in later when the enemy was exhausted… No. Enough distractions. 

He stepped inside. A black-and-white cat leapt down from one of the tables as he entered, scattering papers under its paws. It sauntered out the door, tail held high. Dimitri knelt to gather up the pages and placed them back on the corner of the table, though by now they were surely shuffled out of all recognition. 

He approached the desk. At last Byleth turned to him, expressionless, no condemnation, no surprise, only a mild curiosity that felt so much more piercing than it had any right to be.

He bowed. “Professor. I am truly sorry. I have no excuse for my absence this morning. I will accept any consequences you deem-”

The Professor silenced him by pushing a book into his hands. “Copy this morning’s notes from someone, get some rest, and write me a short paper on the battle strategies of the Three Generals of the Northern Valley. And make it actually short this time. No more than three pages.”

Dimitri hesitated. Surely that was far too mild a punishment. “I- Professor, you shouldn’t feel compelled to take this so lightly simply because of my-”

“I’ll take it how I wish,” the Professor said, and there was a small amount of comfort in the utter lack of deference there. “Do an extra shift in the stables if you really feel that bad.”

He nodded. “I shall.”

“And, Dimitri… please, talk to Manuela.” 

He looked away. The concern in her usually-blank eyes was too much to bear. “…I understand,” he said. Not an agreement, nor a promise. He couldn’t do that. As much as it hurt to deny the Professor’s wishes, he simply couldn’t. He’d sooner die than share _this_ with a stranger, and wasn’t that a selfish thought? His classmates, his kingdom, they needed him at his best. But what could Manuela do? The only thing that could bring him peace was justice upon those who had attacked him in Duscur. 

“Go have lunch, Dimitri. I’ll see you for afternoon classes.”

There was nothing to do but obey. Even so, he paused at the door. Something was missing. “Shouldn’t you eat something too, Professor?”

She’d already gone back to her diagram, and she didn’t turn around to answer. “Don’t worry about me. Seteth is going to bring me a plate. Flayn had a large catch this morning so there’s plenty to go around, but the faculty get the first pick.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Part of him wished she would come with him. He knew she enjoyed dining with her students. But it would be selfish to demand any more of her time than she gave willingly. He left her to her work.

In the dining hall, Ashe waved to him from the Blue Lions table. “Your Highness! Are you feeling better? I copied out my notes from class so you don’t have to worry about that.” He held out a stack of papers covered in small, neat script and diagrams measured straight with the edge of a ruler. 

Oh, he didn’t deserve any of them.

Ingrid grabbed his arm and pulled him into a seat. There was a plate already there waiting for him. Fish - Flayn’s, or Linhardt’s? - and greenhouse vegetables layered with cheese and spiced breadcrumbs. It smelled wonderful. He regretted once again that such efforts were all but wasted on him.

He ate anyway, filling his stomach methodically, listening to his friends talk. Ashe and Dedue had some sort of project they were working on in the greenhouse; from what Dimitri could tell, it was going well. Mercedes and Annette were planning on going into town after lessons to visit a dress shop they both liked. 

When he felt he could excuse himself without anybody noticing, he got up and approached the Black Eagles table. They too were mostly busy in quiet conversation, occasionally punctuated by Ferdinand’s loud laugh or the sound of Caspar slamming the table for emphasis. Linhardt and Bernadetta were the only ones keeping to themselves, both so focused on writing that their food sat half-eaten and most likely forgotten. 

He probably shouldn’t be interrupting them, but it was too late to turn back without looking strange. “Linhardt. I haven’t yet thanked you for your help last night.”

Linhardt glanced up from his notes only long enough for Dimitri to glimpse a smile, and an intrigued glint in his eyes. “Ah, so it worked? That’s good to know, thank you.” He scribbled something on one of the multitude of papers and went back to whatever he’d been working on when Dimitri approached. 

What did he mean by that? “Were you not certain it would?” Dimitri ventured.

Linhardt didn’t look up again. “As I said, the spell is still in a fairly experimental phase. Far enough along to know that it wouldn’t do the subject any harm, but I wasn’t sure how long the effect would last.” He picked up a pen. “How many hours would you say you slept uninterrupted?”

“Lin!” Caspar hissed, very loudly. “Don’t be so rude! That’s the prince you’re talking to.”

“Since when do you care so much about manners?” Dorothea interjected. She nudged Bernadetta. “Isn’t this odd?”

Bernadetta, who’d been deep in focus writing something in a worn notebook, jumped, throwing her pencil to the floor. “Don’t involve me in this!” she squeaked. Edelgard, down at the end of the table, shook her head, sighed, and returned to her quiet conversation with Hubert.

Dimitri leaned down to pick up Bernadetta’s lost pencil and handed it back to her. She took it with a stammered thanks and moved several seats away. Dimitri didn’t blame her. It could be overwhelming, having everyone talking at once, and somehow everything he’d learned on the battlefield didn’t help when it came to his friends. And on that thought, Sylvain and Dedue had headed over to the Eagles’ table, probably drawn by the fuss. 

“Don’t worry, Bernie, I’m sure His Highness would like to talk with us normal folk,” Dorothea said, eyeing Dimitri with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Or maybe just you. You’ve got the fancy title, after all.”

Bernadetta looked a moment away from hiding under the table. “No! I’m not doing anything! I’m not talking to anybody,” she insisted.

This had been a terrible idea. Dimitri bowed. “If- if I’ve offended you, Dorothea, I am deeply sorry…”

She giggled at him, artificial, judging. “That’s cute.”

A sigh from behind him. “And I’d like to gather some data on the efficacy of this spell,” Linhardt tried. 

“A spell?” Dedue demanded, eyes stormy. “Your Highness, did you agree to this?”

“Yes. It’s all right, Dedue,” Dimitri insisted. “If I overslept, it was my own fault. Please do not blame Linhardt for any of it.” He didn’t deserve that, not after he’d offered Dimitri so much aid. 

“Would you say you slept restfully?” Linhardt prompted, ignoring everything else.

“I mean,” Sylvain interjected from over Dimitri’s shoulder, “he missed class this morning, but he looks less exhausted than normal right now, so I’d say, yeah, you did a good job.” 

Linhardt made a note. “Considering the time I performed the spell, that’s not outside of my predictions,” he said. “Still, I’d like to run it a few more times, if you’re willing. And I’ll need more subjects too.” He glanced around the table and then up at Dimitri’s companions. Dedue continued to stare disapprovingly down at him. 

The promise of peaceful, unhaunted sleep was once again too much to resist. “Yes. I’ll accept your offer.”

“Good,” Linhardt said. “Otherwise I’d have had to go looking for subjects, and none of _them_ seem very interested…” he added, nodding in the vague direction of the rest of the Eagles. 

Dorothea shook her head. “Sorry, Lin, but I’m not convinced. But as long as His Highness is interested, you should make the most of it.”

The hour rang out above them, putting an end to any further conversation. All around the dining hall students started gathering up books and clearing plates. Linhardt closed his notebook with a sigh. 

“Meet me in the library before the last bell tonight,” he told Dimitri, and didn’t wait for a response before heading out with the rest of the Eagles. 


End file.
